


A Tale of Four Captains

by Lemondrop



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemondrop/pseuds/Lemondrop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Nationals are over, four captains reflect on the long journey behind them, its outcome, their teams and the challenge of moving on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The King

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> First of all thank you for taking the time to read this story. I have been watching the Prince of Tennis for quite a while but, with so many amazing stories in this fandom, I must admit I have been intimidated to write anything about it. However, in a bout of inspiration I have decided to take the plunge with an introspective piece in the minds of the captains of four beloved teams set after the final match of the Nationals. 
> 
> Before reading this chapter, please remember that it is written from Atobe’s perspective. I don’t know how you see it, (feel free to disagree!) but the impression I get is that Hyotei is closer to Seigaku than they are to Rikkai. Correspondingly, on a personal level, Atobe seems fonder of Tezuka than of either Sanada or Yukimura. As such, some mildly negative opinions about Rikkai will be voiced in this chapter. Please do not take them as my own opinions. They simply are what I perceive Atobe’s thoughts to be. 
> 
> Also, for those who don’t know (although I don’t imagine there are many of you out there), or are new to the Prince of Tennis (I always have trouble remembering the less used names when I am new to an anime/manga fandom), Atobe’s given name is Keigo. As it is supposed to be an introspective piece, his given name will be used far more often than his family name. The same stands true for the other three captains from whose perspective the subsequent three chapters will be written. 
> 
> I genuinely hope that you will have fun reading this. 
> 
> Yours faithfully,  
> Lemondrop

**  
**

_“Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm.”_

Publilius Syrus

" _Game and Match, Echizen Ryoma! Six games to four!"_

When the umpire declared Echizen the winner of the match, he found himself looking at the scene unravelling in front of his eyes with something akin to morbid curiosity.

Regardless of how much he tried, he could not take his eyes away from the flurry of activity which immediately engulfed both sides of the court. On the left side there was happiness, pure undulated joy as a mass of white and blue uniforms had formed a tight circle around a small figure clad in the same Seigaku blue. They smiled, they laughed, they cried and threw him in the air and he wanted to look away, but he could not. A side of him wanted to be part of their joy. He wanted to smile with them and genuinely partake in their triumph. He would have certainly had good cause to. After all, he had been the one who had ensured that the brat would actually be there to dethrone the Emperors. Yet, he could not help but feel a pang of jealousy grow in his chest, which was utterly ridiculous, because Atobe Keigo did  _not_  feel jealous of anyone.

He was the King and kings do not feel jealous of ridiculously talented brats and tennis teams from second-rate schools.

Nevertheless, he felt somehow cheated. Three years before, he had promised his team the world. Five days before, he had failed to deliver a mere qualification into the National semi-finals. He had promised them a national title, recognition and prestige and he had failed not once, not twice but three times. This year was supposed to be Hyotei's year. Perhaps it would have been, if not for a series of strange chance events which had favoured the blue and white team above all others.

Keigo did not believe in luck. In fact, he firmly believed that everyone made their own luck and that hard work always triumphed over accidents of fate. Even so, he could not bring himself to quiet down the voice at the back of his mind which kept repeating that, had the brat not come to Seigaku, it would have been his team's year to shine. It is not exactly the most rational or honest thought he has ever had. In fact, it is far from it. After all, even without Echizen, Seigaku would have still had Tezuka, Fuji and the Golden Pair. And even without Seigaku in the way, would have Hyotei truly managed to defeat the Emperors? He liked to believe so. After all, the Child of God was no match for the King, their Shishido-Ohtori pair was second only to the Golden Pair and he was certain Oshitari would have found a way to beat Sanada.

Yes, if not for Seigaku, it would have been Hoytei's turn. Or at least this was what he kept telling himself because the alternative meant feeling inadequate, and the King may be many things but certainly inadequate was not one of them.

He was not surprised when Echizen actually managed to defeat the so-called Child of God and in the process achieved perfection. In fact, he was no longer surprised by anything the brat did. He had learned the hard way not to underestimate the first year. Echizen's style of tennis screamed "Tezuka", not in its fanciful moves, but in its resolution, assuredness and eagerness to evolve. What the current Seigaku pillar had done to get Echizen to play like that, Keigo had no idea. But it had worked spectacularly well and only those who had actually played the brat could understand that there was absolutely no shame in being defeated by him.

In that respect he felt a strange kinship with the people on the right side of the net. There, the mood was much more subdued, a line of yellow uniforms standing in front of their captain, probably offering meaningless words of comfort, which he had no desire to either imagine or actually hear.

He had never really liked the Child of God. In his opinion, Yukimura was someone who had everything he needed handed to him on a golden plate. Of course, that was only _slightly_ hypocritical considering that he was the one who had been born into a family wealthy beyond belief.

However, even with his substantial wealth he had always found that the captain of Rikkai had perhaps more than he did. After all, Yukimura had a team who followed him like lost puppies, an impeccable (until now) tennis record and two national titles under his belt. To achieve all the above, his yellow-clad counterpart had done nothing but manipulate his team and promote a style of tennis which was, in Keigo's opinion, absolutely dishonourable as it preyed on the mental weakness of the opponent.

Of course, he was also known to take advantage of his opponent's weaknesses. But he did so by challenging them to a head-on fight. His match with Tezuka in the Kanto tournament might not have been his finest moment of fair-play, but in pushing the Seigaku captain to his limits he had pushed himself as well. It had been an honourable fight of endurance. On the other hand, Yukimura's style of tennis was nothing but mind games and trickery and was not aimed at trying to challenge the other tennis player but at incapacitating him. Keigo might not have been the most honourable player, but he had never aimed to take his opponents' five senses.

" _Only destroy his shoulder and subsequent tennis career"_ A small voice in the back of his mind offered menacingly, and Keigo could not help the somewhat bitter smile which made its way to his lips.

Following that particular line of thought had somehow allowed him to come to the rationalization that Tezuka's team winning was the lesser of two evils. After all, Tezuka was one of the few people he had actually respected for a long time. Seeing Tezuka claim the red flag would hurt less than seeing Sanada, or, heaven forbid, Yukimura do it. To a certain extent, Tezuka deserved it more because, like himself, Tezuka had worked for it.

And also, perhaps, seeing him claim the red flag would finally assuage the remnants of his treacherous conscience which kept reminding him in a small, utterly vexing voice that he had been the chief reason behind Tezuka having to work so hard to make it to the Nationals, in the first place.

Behind him he could feel his team watching him like eight hawks. He was well aware he should have probably said something to them, but found himself, surprisingly, at a loss. Should he have said that, to him, they were the best team Japan had to offer? Probably not. Somehow he suspected that his recognition was a poor substitute for an actual National title. Such words of praise would have been superfluous, not appreciated and regarded as utterly insincere. Not that they actually were. No. The King truly believed that Hyotei was the best team in Japan, and no amount of tournament losses would convince him otherwise.

For a moment, he turned his head once again to the right side of the court and could not help but wonder what Yukimura was saying to Rikkaidai. Was he apologising? Was he praising them for their valiant effort? Was he scolding them for their loss?

Keigo wished he knew because perhaps whatever Yukimura was saying to his team, he could say to Hyotei and thus break the rather uncomfortable silence which was surrounding them all. Not that he needed help from plebeians to manage his team. Of course he did not! But the effeminate captain was nothing if not good with his words and considering that he hadn't been slapped by Sanada yet (not that he actually believed Sanada capable of raising his hand to his "master") whatever he was saying to Rikkai seemed to placate them.

After their loss to Seigaku, Keigo had not said a word to his teammates. In fact, he had not even wanted to look at them for fear that he would see a fully-fledged rebellion. Instead, he had quietly ushered them in the comfortable Hyotei bus, pretending to be more concerned with the state of his hair rather than the general state of the team. Later on, he had allowed them to lick their wounds and deflated egos in private before dragging them to a Yakiniku party with the very people who had defeated them.

It had worked. No words about their loss had been exchanged, no strategies on how to prevent it from happening again had been offered and no lamenting had occurred. They relaxed together and had fun and, for a moment, they had forgotten that they had just experienced defeat as a team, for a second time, from the same rivals.

"I'm starting the party. Let's go, everyone!" even to himself his words sounded beyond frivolous, but three days before, going to a party had brought about a semblance of normalcy. Who was to say that it would not work again? And perhaps, if enough time passed, he would know what to say to his teammates (preferably before he actually gave to reigns to Hiyoshi)

"Going at his own pace, as always!" he could hear Oshitari say as he was walking out of the arena and Keigo could not help but feel somewhat gratified that his team chose not to comment on his too-transparent avoidance technique.

* * *

 

Parties at the Atobe Mansion in Tokyo were generally regarded as grand affairs. Rivers of non-alcoholic champagne would flow, the best food in town would be served and the most tasteful music would play live, more often than not. In the exclusive circle of Hyotei, a party at the Atobe Mansion was the place to be seen and being invited there by the King himself was regarded as the highest of honours. If you weren't part of the tennis team, that is.

Members of Hyotei's tennis team had long ago stopped perceiving being seen at one of their captain's events as anything even remotely impressive. And, to Keigo's woe, it seemed that the members of other tennis teams seemed to share the opinion of his own teammates. Especially Seigaku.

"Tezuka, Ore-sama demands that you come to Ore-sama's party!" Keigo all but shrieked into the cell phone he had chosen for the day, only to be met with silence on the other end of the line.

It was preposterous! No one had the right to ignore his calls or his invitation to a party. Especially, the guests of honour. Especially, when on their presence depended the continued welfare of his mental state.

After all, the only thing which prevented his team from delving into thoroughly unpleasant subjects of conversation were the red and blue streamers he had ordered them to tie on the trees of his mother's perfectly pruned fruit garden. Yes, he was well aware that such lowly decorations were beneath an Atobe party, but he believed that commoners like Seigaku would appreciate them. Plus, they came with the added bonus of keeping his regulars occupied.

If the guests of honour were not going to show up, and considering Tezuka's complete and utter reluctance they were not, the blissful silence that currently reigned in the garden would be replaced by words he definitely did not care to hear.

Testament to the direness of the situation stood the fact that, for a fleeting second, Keigo had actually considered sending Kabaji out to buy yellow streamers and calling _Sanada_.

After all, Rikkai had managed to attain the second place in the National Tournament which, for most teams, was something to be proud of. But then he realized that throwing a party for the team from Kanagawa was not such a good idea, especially since they most definitely did not regard their performance as being a success and their fukubuchou was a Kendo champion with anger management issues.

Maybe the team from Kansai? They seemed easy going enough and, for sure, such plebeian individuals would jump at the opportunity of being celebrated in his manor.

But then again, even to him, throwing a party for the bronze medallists seemed too thin of an excuse to sustain the scrutiny of the more perceptive members of Hyotei. It would not do to be perceived as a coward, especially since he most certainly was not one. With a sigh, he once again dialled the now-familiar number of the Seigaku captain hoping for a positive response.

* * *

 

"Tezuka" he started, relieved that, at least this time, the other captain had actually bothered to take his call.

"Atobe" came the flat response from the other end of the line.

"Tezuka, Ore-sama requires your presence at a party thrown in your team's honour" he tried to sound as calm and gracious as possible. After all, Tezuka was a proud individual and would not react well to being ordered about. It would not also do to sound too desperate, considering that his reputation was at stake.

"You have already informed me of that fact the first five times you called" Keigo reckoned that the fact that the notoriously taciturn Tezuka had managed to string that many words into a sentence was certainly a sign that he was in a better mood than usual.

"And?" he asked not trying to sound too eager.

"The answer is still the same" Tezuka answered in that incredibly composed way of his and Keigo had to fight the urge to track the other man down and strangle him with his bare hands.

"Tezuka, it is incredibly rude to refuse to participate to a party thrown in your honour!" he screeched, composure and dignity be damned!

"And I apologize for our rudeness. However, we do prefer to celebrate privately in a more informal environment" the other captain explained although his tone didn't exactly strike Atobe as even remotely apologetic.

"But nothing could compare to a party thrown by Ore-sama!" he replied, much louder than he had intended.

"I am sorry, Atobe, but it is a matter of tradition, so to speak. Good day, Atobe!" Tezuka answered and for the sixth time during the day, Keigo was met with silence from the other side of the line.

It was at that point that Keigo considered kidnaping Tezuka. Or perhaps sending Kabaji to kidnap Tezuka. After all, where Tezuka went, Seigaku invariably followed and how hard would it truly be to overpower him and shove him into a limo?

However, having to kidnap one's guests for one's party was beneath ore-sama. If Tezuka and his team of plebeians wanted to celebrate in some undisclosed dump, who what he to thwart their plans? That being said, he still had the pressing matter of distracting his regulars long enough for the day to pass in an uneventful manner.

Perhaps if he called Yukimura he would be more amenable than Sanada? Surely Yukimura would be as reluctant to truly confront his team as he was, and what better way to avoid dealing with one's team than a pleasant gathering among acquaintances?

Then again, knowing Yukimura he had already probably convinced his entire team to either perform ritual suicide or form a healing group and talk about the childhood issues that had prevented them from winning a third national title.

* * *

 

"Shall I call Kenya? Or perhaps you want me to call the people from Okinawa? Maybe we should celebrate their success in the first round of the Nationals…" Oshitari's sarcasm-laden baritone resounded in the empty room and Keigo automatically turned to face his teammate. Had Oshitari been someone else, perhaps he would have responded with nothing but a chastising look.

But Oshitari was not someone else. Oshitari Yushi was one of the few people Keigo actually respected and liked. He was also one of the few who, when the mood struck, was disinclined to bow to his will or be silenced by one of the King's infamous glares. He could perfectly remember their match during the first year, he could remember the thrill it had given him and the surge of euphoria that had resulted from the discovery of having someone who almost equalled him in skill on his team. Oshitari had gained his respect that day and had kept it throughout the subsequent three years of their association.

"You know, I think more than anything they are worried about you… It's not exactly like our King to not confront the issue head on" Oshitari followed, lowering himself into one of the armchairs which overlooked the garden.

"Are you implying that Ore-sama is guilty of cowardice?" he answered in a haughty voice and raised an eyebrow in marked distaste.

"Not at all. I'm merely saying that after Kanto you sat us all down in this very parlour, and we discussed what had happened, why it had happened and what we could do to prevent it from happening in the future. Nothing of the sort has occurred after our last match." Oshitari responded, his eyes seeming to pierce through his façade from behind his fake glasses.

And that was exactly the crux of the matter. Hyotei's defeat at the Nationals was very different from their loss in the Kanto tournament. For one, after Kanto they had still had the hope of retribution. While it had been hardly a certainty that they would be able to play in the Nationals, it had been a probability. As the Nationals had come and gone, the last possibility of ever regaining the honour of Hyotei had also been dispelled.

Furthermore, perhaps the most telling difference between the two events was the fact that during Kanto, fair-play or not, Keigo had won his match. He had not been the one to cause the defeat of his team. That dubious honour had rested on Hiyoshi's shoulders.

Atobe, by virtue of his status, had a very healthy ego. In fact some might misguidedly dismiss him as a narcissist. That being said, losing a stamina battle with a twelve-year-old was had not exactly been his finest moment. It also didn't help that he had to see proof of his deficiency every time he looked in the mirror and saw his cannibalized hair.

He wasn't exactly ashamed of his loss to Tezuka's brat. He was, after all, an opponent worthy of Ore-sama. But he wasn't proud of it either. A discussion about his team's match at the Nationals would undoubtedly lead to a discussion about that very moment and Keigo was more than reluctant to explain why the _hell_ he could not prevent himself from passing out in the middle of a match.

"I fail to see how such a discussion would be relevant. After all, there are no more matches to be played during the season" he offered, leaning against the window pane and meeting his teammates' eyes head on.

"There are no more matches for us, Atobe. But Kabaji, Hiyoshi and Ohtori still have a full season to go next year" Oshitari offered sensibly.

"I am certain Hiyoshi will manage when the time comes. Such a discussion now would be nothing but redundant and unpleasant" He counteracted, striving to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"For you or for them?" the question was spoken in a tone which was much sharper than Yushi's usually levelled voice.

"For all parties involved" Atobe replied curtly, being quite ready for the conversation to end.

"They… _we_ … don't blame you for losing the match against Echizen" Oshitari sighed, removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes with an expression of weary solicitude.

"Ore-sama requires neither absolution nor validation!" he answered sharply, his voice rising slightly, his grey eyes challenging Yushi to continue that particular line of thought.

"Strangely enough it seems that you do" Oshitari raised a hand before Atobe could respond "If you didn't, you would have already told Kabaji to learn to play in the rain. You would have already told Gakuto and Hiyoshi how idiotic their strategy was and you, yourself, would have already been on a tennis court improving whatever imaginary stamina issues you might perceive you have. Instead, for almost a week, we have been playing unofficial cheerleader to Seigaku."

For a moment, Keigo looked at Yushi in stunned disbelief and wondered if that was what it felt to have a vice-captain. For years he had truly believed that he did not require one and that his leadership was sufficient for Hyotei. But, considering the reality of Oshitari's words, he was starting to tentatively reconsider the veracity of that particular concept.

He wondered if Sanada had ever told Yukimura he was being idiotic, or if the more sedate half of the Golden Pair had ever accused Tezuka of being a coward. Perhaps not, considering that Sanada was more likely to build a shrine to Yukimura rather than insult him and, while Tezuka was known for many things, cowardice was not one of them. But then again, the relationship he had with his team was very different from that of the other captains with their teams.

Seigaku respected and admired Tezuka to the point of fanaticism. In their eyes Tezuka could do no wrong and regardless of how many matches he actually lost, he would still be their leader and they would still trust him. If Tezuka ordered his team to throw themselves head-on into a river he was certain that all of them, including (perhaps _especially_ ) the brat, would do it, no questions asked. To a certain extent, Keigo believed that such respect was warranted if not excessive. After all, how many captains would willingly sacrifice their health for their team?

On the other side of the coin, Rikkaidai worshiped the very ground Yukimura walked on. Even bedridden in a hospital and absent for most of the season, he had remained their uncontested leader. How he had managed to command such devotion from his team of dubious characters was beyond Atobe, but that was hardly the point. The point was that both Yukimura and Tezuka had rapports with their teams which were widely different from his with Hyotei.

Although it was beyond him why (perhaps envy), Keigo was well aware that the better part of the two hundred members of Hyotei's tennis club could barely stand him. Even in his group of regulars there had always been dissent and objections to his style of leadership. For three years, setting himself at the top as a standard had been enough to motivate the members of his team to achieve higher levels of skill. It had done nothing to endear himself to them. In fact, if anything, it had alienated them. The problem with such an approach was that, unlike the members of other teams, his teammates did not necessarily trust him or were particularly loyal to him. They trusted his skill and, as long as he stayed at the top, they followed his queues, some more begrudgingly than others.

The problem was that in light of his performance during his latest match, he was no longer at the top. Quite frankly, for those who didn't know what it felt to play Echizen, he had been beaten by a first year. For his critics, it would not matter that the brat had also beaten other incredibly powerful players.

Somehow, talking to his teammates from the position of the loser was not an exactly appealing idea.

"Look, I don't know what you think about the whole situation but no one believes you were to blame for the loss. On the contrary, really. Your match with Echizen truly proved that you are our King. In fact, your performance during the game went above and beyond what we had expected you to do as our captain" Oshitari offered with a lazy shrug.

"As I previously mentioned, Oshitari: Ore-sama does not require validation or forgiveness from anyone" he replied in his customary haughty tone, a slight smile creeping at the corners of his lips.

"That's certainly a relief, for we are offering neither. But you should try speaking to the regulars before Ohtori bursts into tears, Shishido does harm to himself or others, Gakuto's twitch becomes permanent and Hiyoshi starts muttering 'gekokujou' like a mantra on a permanent basis." the resident Hyotei prodigy advised and watched his captain with a rather predatory, if benevolent, expression.

Ore-sama was not a sentimental person by nature. Controlling one's emotional outbursts was a sign of quality breeding and education. As such, Keigo was rather surprised at the wave of warmth that invaded his very core when he heard the tensai's words. He certainly did not need any form of recognition from anyone, more so those he commanded, but he could not deny the appeal of the idea that his lack of guidance had had a visible impact on the members of his team.

"For almost a week we waited for an…. well, quite frankly, an explosion to occur and when it didn't happen we all kind of started to worry. Then you had us go to Seigaku's matches and their celebration party and… some of us thought you might be planning to _kill_ Tezuka for making the brat play you in the Nationals, so we actually looked into ways of covering for you if that happened... For the record, being a potential accessory to murder is a rather daunting idea. That's when Gakuto actually started twitching…" Oshitari continued

It was then that every ounce of self-restraint Keigo possessed seemed to completely disappear and he laughed. Not a maniacal, nervous cackle but a full, rich laughter that reverberated off the wallpapered walls and filled the room with mirth.

"Ore-sama thanks you Oshitari. Tell the regulars that ore-sama will be with them momentarily" he said, his voice delighted and his grey eyes sparkling with unvoiced joy.

As he watched Oshitari take his leave, Keigo could not help but feel happier than he had been in quite a while. Perhaps he did not have a team who followed his every order without dissent out of a personal sense of loyalty. Perhaps he did not have a team who worshiped him and hung onto his every word. He did, however, have a team who was willing to help him cover up the murder of a fellow captain.

And he owed it to his team to open himself up to scrutiny and allow them to dissect why they had failed to win the coveted National title. But, above all, he needed to tell his Hyotei that he was truly proud of what they had achieved together and that, regardless of what a tournament said, they were still champions.

 


	2. The Bible

" _A leader is best when people barely know he exists, when his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will say: we did it ourselves."_

Lao Tzu

" _Game and Match, Echizen Ryoma! Six games to four!"_

Shiraishi Kuranosuke, captain of what he believed to be the most eccentric team in Japan did not hear the umpire's announcement. Instead, the news of Seigaku's triumph was delivered via Kintaro. Or, better said via Kin-chan's elated "Koshimae!" scream which overwhelmed the voice of the umpire and probably did irreversible damage to Kuranosuke's eardrums.

A short glance towards the youngest member of his team confirmed what he had already suspected: Kin-chan was fully prepared to engage into a mad dash across the court, to reach the other extraordinary rookie in the competition. With a steadying hand on the first–year's shoulder, he shook his head and gave a pointed, warning look towards his bandaged arm.

"But, Shiraishi! I want to go to Koshimae!" the rookie whined, his two pleading pools of hazel turned towards his captain.

Kuranosuke could do nothing but sigh. Sometimes he wished he either possessed or at least understood Kintaro's lack of restraint. It must have been so easy to live life without having any notion of propriety, without any regard for socially accepted behaviours and a generally innocent view of the world. Unfortunately he didn't lack restraint, he did have quite a thorough grasp of what was proper or not, and he knew that at that very moment no one was entitled to disturb Seigaku's moment of celebration. They had worked hard to achieve their victory and it was only natural that they would want to, at least for now, celebrate among themselves.

"Later, Kin-chan" he answered with a tone of finality and, albeit reluctantly, the red-head settled down.

Kintaro at least somewhat placated, Kuranosuke allowed his eyes to travel back to the flurry of activity on the court. He could indeed see that their semi-final rivals had formed a tight circle around their own rookie and were congratulating him wildly. Perhaps it was his fondness for the underdog, but he was genuinely happy for Seigaku. Something about a relatively unknown, apparently weak team winning the Nationals gave him hope that, perhaps, in the near future, his Shitenhoji would be the ones claiming the red flag. Then again, there was a very big difference between Seigaku and his own team. Seigaku had a drive that he had never been quite able to instil into his teammates.

* * *

When he became captain, after the abrupt departure of their previous buchou, Kuranosuke had been, for all intents and purposes, lost. While he had imagined that he would, at some point, claim the captaincy of the Kansai team, he had never expected it to be so very soon. Thus, as a second year, he had been faced with the daunting task of having to be responsible for a team composed of a very different, very wild set of individuals. Looking back at the first weeks of his captaincy, he had been nothing short of a control freak, trying to force his teammates to believe in the basics that he believed in.

Sometimes he wondered how things would have turned out if they hadn't been forced to recruit Zaizen into their team. The boy, his successor so to speak, was rude, callous, disinterested and entirely unsuited to the free spirit of Shitenhoji. He was also perhaps the only one that could have made him realize the momentous mistake he had been making by trying to mould his teammates into copies of himself.

That being said, the prospect of leaving his team into Zaizen's hand the following years was, for all intents and purposes, daunting. For all his talent in tennis, the generally disinterested nature that the junior displayed made Kuranosuke rather nervous about making him captain the following year. Then again, the 'let be' tradition that he had established during his own captaincy would perhaps suit the already indifferent junior. At least he sincerely hoped that it would.

"Shiraishi, I'm going to talk to Yushi! I will come back before the award ceremony!" the self-proclaimed Speed Star of Naniwa said quickly, already making his way towards his cousin. Although it was not strictly required, Kuranosuke nodded his assent, his eyes involuntarily following Kenya to where he was heading to.

For a second, Shiraishi wondered if he should have stopped Kenya. Standing at the top of the stairs, the members of Hyotei's tennis team seemed to be watching their captain as if he was a bomb about to explode. The captain himself bore such a grim expression that, had they not been in a public place, Kuranosuke would have worried that he would have either killed someone or killed himself on the spot.

Quite frankly, he didn't know much about Atobe. Apart from their brief meeting at Seigaku's celebration he had never come into contact with him. And, if the rumours about Hyotei's captain were true, he couldn't say that he would particularly like to associate himself with him. That being said, he couldn't help but feel mildly curious about the rather pained expression the other man bore. Was it disappointment? As far as he knew from Kenya, Hyotei had fallen to Seigaku back in the quarterfinals, and, as such, they would have had enough time to lick their metaphorical wounds. Then again, Kuranosuke himself could attest to the fact that seeing another's triumph was never easy.

He genuinely liked Seigaku. He liked their members, and he liked their captain who had a much hands-on approach than he himself had. But that didn't mean he wouldn't have liked Shitenhoji to be playing in the finals. On the contrary. If anything, the fact that Seigaku had managed to accomplish such a feat made him wonder why Shitenhoji had failed for two consecutive years to accomplish a similar thing. Perhaps, he thought as his eyes travelled to the side of the court occupied by blue-clad figures, it was luck. Or better said, a lack of luck on their part. Or maybe they were just not good enough.

Kuranosuke's eyes travelled to the spot where Seigaku was congratulating their young freshman and, for a second, he studied Echizen's content face. The boy was truly something. Achieving the Pinnacle of Perfection was indeed a feat worthy of congratulation in itself. Opening mystical doors was more Chitose's area of expertise, but he couldn't help but feel slightly cheated. It was rather ironic that Perfect tennis was not the most efficient form of tennis like he had believed but, instead, was perhaps the flashiest, the messiest form of tennis in existence. Not for the first time, he felt that the style of tennis he practiced was not only boring but also rather pointless.

"Shiraishi! Can I go to Koshimae now?" Kin-chan pleaded from besides him and he turned with a sigh. Seigaku was still celebrating and it would be poor form to allow Kintaro to barge in.

"Kin-chan, how about we get ice cream?" he offered in an attempt to, once again, placate their youngest member. For a moment Kintaro seemed split between wanting to rush off to see his new friend and getting the sweet treat. After an almost apologetic look at 'Koshimae' he turned towards his captain, nodded and eagerly attached himself to his buchou's arm.

* * *

Not for the first time during the past year, Kuranosuke swore that he would never have children. Or, if he ever had, that he would feed them ADHD pills daily, so that they wouldn't turn out as hyper as Kintaro generally was. Redhead attached to his elbow, as if he was going to make a run for it, they moved slowly out of the arena.

The summer day had cooled off slightly, at the surroundings of the arena were desolate, being in a strange contrast with the general flurry of activity that was taking place inside. Taking a moment to appreciate the general peacefulness, he was about to shake his young teammate off, when Kin-chan stopped in his tracks, his eyes becoming big as saucers. The redhead gave a quick piercing yell, as if he had just seen a ghost, let go of his captain's arm and instead hid behind Shiraishi, his thin arms clasped around his waist.

Regaining his balance after the sudden movement, he was ready to turn to Kin-chan and chastise him for such childish behaviour but the words died on his lips. A quick glance towards the arena suddenly told him why his freshman had reacted the way he did.

Leaning against the wall, close to the door, stood Yukimura Seiichi, fearsome captain of Rikkaidai and probably the one person in existence that could scare Kintaro out of his wits. Shoulders sagged, eyes looking downwards and hands falling listlessly around his thin frame, Kuranosuke had to admit that the yellow-clad buchou looked much less impressive than he did on the tennis court. If anything, he looked rather frail and lost.

"Shiraishi-san…" Yukimura acknowledged in a soft voice, offering a gentle smile at the picture of the Shitenhoji rookie attached to his captain.

"Yukimura-san… " he replied momentarily stunned by the intensity of the other man's blue eyes. The arms around his waist tightened their grip and he tried his best to loosen it to no avail. "We are going for ice cream… would you like to join us?" Shiraishi offered politely after a moment of very uncomfortable silence. The short figure at his back gave another shrill cry, moved closer and Kuranosuke wondered if there was some truth in the statement 'hugged to death'.

"I don't think that would be such a great idea. But thank you for the offer." Yukimura replied evenly, his eyes stopping for a second on the small, trembling hands of the rookie. A rather sad smile graced his thin features and Kuranosuke could not help but wonder whether it was truly acceptable to leave the other captain alone.

"Well, then… we should go...Kin-chan… let go! I can't walk like this!" he snapped, but, predictably, his words fell on deaf ears. It seemed that Kintaro was actively trying to blend with his captain and Shiraishi was finding the prospect rather daunting to say the least. "Kin-chan!"

"No! No! No! No! No!" Kintaro whined and he could feel the mop of unruly hair move against his back, the deceptively thin hands holding his midsection even tighter.

"Kin-chan, do you know what will happen if you don't stop this nonsense immediately?" Kuranosuke said in a much harsher tone, and turned towards the other captain to offer an apologetic smile.

Quite frankly he had expected Yukimura to look smug at his inability to control his own rookie. But instead of being haughty, Yukimura looked rather miserable, his eyes fixed on the clasped hands of the rookie.

"I don't care!" Kintaro answered in a much more subdued voice and, for once, he understood how scared his young teammate was.

"Kin-chan…" Shiraishi started in a warning voice, raising his bandaged arm to indicate his intention.

"Tooyama-kun, I'm going inside now. So you can let go of Shiraishi-san." Yukimura offered kindly from the side and Shitenhoji's captain stopped in his tracks, glancing at his Rikkaidai analogue.

For a moment Yukimura offered yet another bitter simile and turned on his heels to proceed inside. Kuranosuke watched him move, the image of that parody of a smile burned deep within the recesses of his mind. Was that how he had looked when they had lost in the semi-finals? Did he have the same bitter, self-defeating air about him? Had he felt that guilty?

The answer was no, he hadn't. They had lost, but loosing was a fact of life. It wasn't the end of the world and it simply meant that they had to try harder. Feeling so dejected because of such a thing was nothing but borderline irrational.

Even so, his mind helpfully supplied an image of Atobe's pained expression as he watched Seigaku's celebration, and Kuranosuke could not help but pause in his judgemental assertions. Two different captains, two different teams, both wearing the same expression, both sharing the same feelings. Perhaps he was the one who wasn't normal.

"Kin-chan… It's alright now…" he said calmly, mentally testing the veracity of his statement. Was it truly alright?

Kintaro released his grip and deftly moved in front of his captain, gracing him with a sheepish smile. Looking at the future of Shitenhoji standing in front of him, brown eyes red from tears, red hair wild, childish smile plastered on his features, Kuranosuke sighed. When his turn came, how far would Kintaro go? How far would his team go with Kintaro at its helm?

"Are we still getting ice cream?" the rookie asked in a subdued voice, his hands clasped around his back, his eyes looking hopefully at his captain.

Kuranosuke felt the urge to laugh, composure be damned. Unless Kin-chan actually grew up before he took the helm of the team, Shitenhoji was doomed. The same stood true for Zaizen. Between them, one being too indifferent, the other being too foolish, they would drive the entire team into the ground.

He didn't laugh because if he did, he reckoned he would have immediately lost it. Instead, he merely nodded and steered Kintaro towards the ice cream parlour.

* * *

Content expression plastered on his face, hands covered in melting pistachio ice cream, Kin-chan seemed momentarily appeased and Kuranosuke thanked Kami-sama that for at least five minutes he would not have to worry about his rookie going off and doing something ridiculous. Or at least he hoped that he could afford such luxury. After all, Kin-chan was nothing if completely and utterly unpredictable.

However, at the risk of destroying his hard-earned moment of peace, Kuranosuke knew he once again had to step into lecturing-captain mode. Ever since Zaizen had joined their team, that particular mode had seemed to all but vanish. To a certain extent, Shiraishi-buchou had learned his lesson about being too overbearing with his teammates. But, like always, Kin-chan was a special case. Their rookie, for all his talent in tennis, had the behaviour of a five-year-old and the social graces of a kindergartner. There were a lot of things that he needed to learn and, for the general welfare of the team, Shiraishi had taken it upon himself to impart those valuable bits of knowledge. He absolutely hated it.

For one, he hated breaking his own promise not to interfere with the general conduct of his teammates. But, even more, he hated the fact that everything he said to Kintaro seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Shiraishi was not someone who liked doing things in vain. He abhorred excesses and unnecessary actions, his own style of tennis being sufficient proof of how much he liked efficiency. Against all odds, his relationship with Shitenhoji's rookie was the perfect anathema of that. Their conversations seemed to have a set formula which proved, thus far, to be completely inefficient: he said something, Kin-chan whined, he threatened, Kin-chan was sacred, he got the impression that Kintaro had learned the lesson, Kin-chan did not understand a thing.

"Kin-chan, you should apologize to Yukimura-san" he said in a measured, serious voice and Kintaro turned to face him immediately.

"Why?" the rookie asked genuinely confused, big eyes pleading and lips quivering at the mere prospect of facing the Rikkaidai captain.

"Because you were very rude earlier and he didn't deserve to be treated like that" for a moment, Kuranosuke had been tempted to forgo explanations and, like always, raise his bandaged arm. Instead he stifled the tempting impulse, and responded as calmly as possible.

"But he's evil!" Kintaro replied as if he was articulating a universal truth.

That statement, pronounced with such childish sincerity, gave him pause. Was Yukimura Seiichi evil? Of course he wasn't. That was a question that didn't even deserve to be dignified with an answer. Admittedly, the Rikkaidai captain's style of tennis was somewhat underhand, but that didn't make him 'evil'. At least not in the way Kuranosuke himself defined the word.

"I don't think he's evil, Kin-chan" he replied evenly, looking at his kohai seriously.

"But he hurts people…" the red head replied quickly, his voice a notch higher than before. "He hurt me and he hurt Koshimae…"

Kuranosuke suddenly had to stifle the impulse to bang his head against the ice cream counter. Yes, Kintaro was right in his assertions. If you were a five-year-old, that is. Otherwise, a reasonable twelve-year-old would have acknowledged that, sometimes, people who hurt other people were not evil. Especially during a game.

"That's only how he plays tennis… You sometimes hurt people when you play tennis, don't you?" he tried explaining as patiently as he could, but he wasn't very optimistic about the direction in which the conversation was going.

"But I don't want to. It just happens sometimes. He wants to hurt people" Kin-chan's response came promptly, his eyes still a mass of confused brown.

"I don't think he specifically sets out to hurt others. He just wants to win for his team. That's not evil, is it?" Kuranosuke tried again, already feeling like they would be going in a circle for a long time before he would ultimately engage into the tried–and-tested 'poison-arm-threatening' method and force Kintaro to apologize to Rikkaidai's captain.

For a moment, Kin-chan seemed to mull over his captain's words and a flicker of hope awakened within Shiraishi. Perhaps, he understood what he was saying?

"What about you?" Kintaro asked and his captain was confused for a second.

"What about me?" Shiraishi asked in absolute confusion, momentarily wondering how in the world Kin-chan had dragged him into the entire situation.

"You want to win for the team but instead of hurting others you hurt yourself. Like Tezuka-san, only that you don't have a bad shoulder..." the red-head explained with a smile.

"I don't really hurt myself, Kin-chan" Shiraishi countered, not entirely following Kintaro's logic. Which, to be honest, it wasn't an entirely novel experience.

"Yes you do. You play boring tennis because that's what makes Shitenhoji win. You also don't play the people that you want to play against, but the hardest people because you want us to win. You also took poison to make your arm stronger and have to bandage it every day!" by now, Kin-chan was so pumped up that he had risen from his chair and was jumping slightly up and down in excitement.

Kuranosuke was speechless. Completely and utterly devoid of words. Was this truly how the youngest member of his team saw him? He didn't know whether to be flattered or not. Apart from the statement about the poison hand, which was obviously a fabrication on his part, the other assertions had hit surprisingly close to home. Kuranosuke had always made a concerted effort not to be selfish as far as his team was concerned, especially after the disasters that were last year's National Tournament and the first weeks of his captaincy. As such, he had always tried to be what his team needed him to be and play not in the way that he wanted, but in the way that he needed to. That being said, he had never expected any of them to take note of it. Especially the youngest of them and the one who was decidedly the most oblivious to the subtleties of the world surrounding him. He was oddly touched.

"Kin-chan…" Kuranosuke tried to stop his kohai and perhaps thank him for his kind assertions, but the read-head seemed to be on a roll.

"So, you and Tezuka-san want to win but don't hurt anyone but yourselves. Like heroes. And that means that Yukimura-san is the big boss" Kintaro was now grinning like mad, obviously pleased with himself at his deductive skills.

"The big boss?" Shiraishi asked more than a little perplexed.

"Yes… like in a video game. You have small evil and then you have the big evil at the end. That's the big boss." the young red-head said, as if it was something so obvious that everyone would have understood what it meant.

"Life isn't really a video game, Kin-chan." Kuranosuke tried to impart the sad truth to his kohai, but Kintaro's expression remained completely blank "For example, if this were a video game, then 'the heroes' would defeat the 'big boss', right? But neither myself nor Tezuka even played Yukimura, much less defeat him"

"That's because you are not the big heroes. You are small heroes. Koshimae is the big hero" the kohai argued, not quite understanding why his captain didn't really get it.

Kuranosuke simply gave up, his shoulders sagging slightly. For a moment, going by his assertions about his tennis style, he had believed that Kinatro had somehow gained an ounce of introspection and reason. However, he reckoned that changes did not happen overnight, much less as far as Kin-chan was concerned. The conversation, like a thousand others of the sort, was not going anywhere. Even so, Kuranosuke couldn't bring himself to be too disappointed about it. That was simply how things were.

"But don't be sad, Shiraishi. I think the small heroes are way nicer than the big heroes" Kin-chan patted his captain's shoulder in comfort, his smile and eyes the picture of complete and utter innocence. He clearly took Shiraishi's defeated expression as sadness at not being a 'big hero'. "And you are a way cooler small hero than Tezuka-san. You have the poison arm, after all! I bet you can even defeat Yukimura-san with it, and then you can become a big hero as well!"

Shitenhoji's captain didn't bother replying, and instead handed over a napkin to his kohai so that he could wipe his face clean of the pistachio ice-cream.

As they walked back to the arena to meet up with the others, and Kinatro kept going on and on about how 'small heroes' were better than 'big heroes', Kuranosuke simply laughed. They might have lost the National Tournament twice in a row, but, as things stood, Shiraishi found himself proud to be the captain of the most eccentric team in Japan. Even if, according to Kintaro, he was only a 'small hero'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for taking the time to read this. I certainly hope you have enjoyed this chapter and that I managed to keep Shiraishi in character. 
> 
> Next up: The Child of God

**Author's Note:**

> Prince of Tennis and its wonderful characters do not belong to me but to Takeshi Konomi.


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